Let The Tears Fall
by Tiriya
Summary: A little different from my other stuff. Someone sits alone in the dark, mourning their lost love... try and guess the pairing before the end. Please R&R.


There you are, sitting by your solitary self in the growing darkness of your own room. You are crying yet again, yet you seem to be holding back, somehow. I shake my head silently, feeling the pity and sadness well up inside of me. It is better to let the tears fall, my love, for they can be replaced – almost certainly there are plenty more where they came from.

Standing only a few short meters away from her, I think back over our time together. It was somewhat ephemeral, yes, but it was good. It was never planned – we were thrown together by chance (okay, we were bored) and then parted by fate (a car crash, of all things), but there's nothing we can do now to change that. I only wish I could have said goodbye…. I only wish I could have said I was sorry. But I never got the chance, so I'll say it now. Pacing lightly around the room with my hands joined behind my back and my head bowed, I say in a voice that falls onto deafened ears the words that previously went unspoken and therefore unknown.

I'm sorry I denied you. I'm sorry I messed you around, and I'm sorry I said what I did. And I'm sorry, too, that you fell in love with me, for even I hadn't left that last night in a blind rage, it could never have worked. You know that, don't you? Actually, now that I consider it – I've had a lot of time to think lately – I don't think that you did. There was always a sparkle in your eyes, a sort of hopefulness that everything would work out, that everything would be all right as long as we were together. You were so innocent, so trusting. And you know, that sweet naïveté was one of the things that I loved most about you.

Wait, what did I just say….? Love? No, "loved" – I said "loved"…. past tense. But that can't be right, can it? I loved you dearly then and I still do… but this is insane. Hyne above, I love you more than anything, but I still can't ignore the fact that I'm dead. It could pose a problem should we ever want to touch or kiss one another ever again.

Which brings us once again to the crying. Are you crying for me, love? For us? If so, don't. My spirit may have left my body, but our love still lives on, please know that. I told you manys a time that I would love you forever, and I meant it. What worries me, though, is that you seemed to mean it as well when you said it back to me.

I don't want you to weep for me; I don't want you to hold sacred the name that I once went by, nor hold dear the time we spent together, not if it is going to drag you down. I just want you to be happy, even if it means having to see you with someone else. I don't want you to stop living just because I have. You're strong, love, and you have a mind of your own and a nerve of steel. Put those qualities to good use and you'll be fine. Heartache, sorrow and despair are only temporary things, and so will pass accordingly. You just have to be willing to let go.

But it works both ways, I know. It is unfair to tell the one you love to move on, and to then hang around them, watching them and spying on them. Haunting them, basically. I can't do it to her – I won't do it to her. I have to let her go. But first….

Moving silently toward her, I sit down next to her on the bed and then, laying my hands gently on her shoulders, pull her gently to me in one last embrace. Her grief-stricken sobs suddenly die down and I can feel her tense under my hands. I fear for a moment that she can actually see me, feel me, but I know that can't be. It's just not possible. Yet I know when she lifts her head and speaks my name that somehow, as inexplicable as it may be, she can feel my presence.

"Quistis?" Her voice is barely more than a whisper.

I don't waste my breath replying, for I know that she will not hear me. Instead I reach up a gloved hand, stroke her silken locks and brush my lips against her cheeks, kissing the tears away. She gasps and reaches up a hand, touching the place where my lips made contact.

"Quistis," she breathes. This time it isn't a question.

I'm tempted to touch her again but I know that this is it – I have to go. Blinking back the tears that have welled up in my own eyes, I rise and will myself away from the place. I don't look back at her, because I know that doing so would only make it that much harder to walk away.

I know you love me, Rinoa, and you always will. But now the time has come to stop crying and to move on with your life. You'll laugh, meet new people, see new things, make new friends…. and when the time comes, my dear, you will love once again.

~

Please review.


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